The Old Familiar Faces
by Swizle
Summary: An exploration of Juliet and Dawsey's relationship as they traverse the change from friends to lovers. (movie verse)


"Dawsey!"

He turned again, eyes scanning the busy pier. He was sure he heard his name called out, and could have sworn that it was her voice. But that was impossible, surely it –

"_Dawsey!"_

A crane lifted its netted goods up and onto the ship, and she came into view. She was out of breath, up on tip-toe trying in vain to see over the crowd. As soon as her eyes met his her face broke into a wide smile. His breath caught and he started to run forward whispering her name.

They dashed towards each other as quickly as they could across the slippery stone footpath. He thought for a moment that she was going to jump into his arms but she stopped a metre or so away, her small leather suitcase swinging between them.

He realized all of a sudden that he hadn't the faintest idea of what to say to her. He had written her a letter while aboard the ferry but somehow hadn't actually pictured speaking to her while handing it over. Their friendship had always been defined by the written word – their letters, their love of books, and finally that finely wrapped manuscript – and he had always been more comfortable expressing himself via a pencil than face to face. Maybe he should have posted the damned thing, rather than shipping himself over with it. But then he wouldn't have had the chance to see her now. To see her dark eyes shining up at him, her soft hair curling in the wind, waiting for him to speak.

"Hello," he said simply.

"Hello," she answered, smiling. She glanced down at his empty hands, looking for a sign of luggage. "Where are you off to?"

"I'm on my way to find you."

She seemed a little stunned by this. "Me? Really?"

He realized suddenly that he had been a complete ass. What if the gift of the manuscript didn't mean what he thought it meant? What if it were simply a kind gesture? A way to apologise and part as friends? It was addressed to the entire Society, not just him, and she certainly hadn't singled him out in any romantic way. Her hands were covered with grey gloves, he couldn't see her ring finger. For all he knew she was still engaged to that smiley Yank. Or, God forbid, married to him.

It was only a short boat ride over from the island but in the last few days he had gone on such a long journey, and was only just realizing that he may have travelled it alone.

"Yes. Well, I – I wrote you a letter on the boat, just now."

"Right…"

"Wanted to make sure I'd got it all down. Everything I should have said, long before."

"Well, this is convenient because I was on my way to find you as well."

She was coming to find him? He smiled and took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. Oh God, he didn't think he would be this nervous. He pulled his cap from his head and twisted it, if only to have something to do with his trembling hands. "Juliet, I -" he began.

"Would you like to marry me?"

He blinked in surprise. Had she really just asked that? He stepped closer to her, as though it had simply been that he had been out of earshot and misheard her.

"I'm in love with you, so I thought I'd ask." Her face was almost comically serious as she waited for his answer.

"My God," he breathed, barely holding back the hysterical laughter threatening to escape. She would surprise him to the last, he knew that now. And he would never tire of it. "Yes. Yes."

Her eyes were filling with tears. "Yes?"

He moved towards her excruciatingly slowly. Part of him was still convinced that he was still asleep on the ferry, rocked into merry dreams, and would awaken disappointed. But no, she was real. He brought his mouth close to hers and felt her warm breath on his face as she closed her eyes. He waited, letting her close the final distance between them. As their lips finally met they both started, shocked at the sensation. She gasped and he couldn't resist capturing her mouth with his, trapping her top lip. It wasn't a perfect, Hollywood first kiss where lips press and bodies bend into a dance pose while the orchestra crescendos. It was cautious, and slow, and awkward, and tender. It was better than Hollywood. This was _them_ and it was heartbreakingly real.

He lifted her up in his arms making her laugh. My God, he wanted to hear that sound every second of every day and he couldn't help but laugh too. She brought out the joyful side to him that he had feared was starved out long ago. He held her against him and spun her around coaxing out another squeal of laughter before setting her back onto the ground, never letting go. She felt so good in his arms. "Juliet. My Juliet…" he whispered into her shoulder, relishing the feeling of her soft hair against his face. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his shoulders and she sighed in contentment.

Then came the sound of whistling and shouts from the dock and she pulled away shyly. He coughed and pulled back, glancing over his shoulder at the smiling fisherman. He looked back at her and was thrilled to see that she didn't look embarrassed or upset but rather amused by the intrusion.

"I should be a little ashamed of myself I suppose," she said. "But I don't care. I love you Dawsey Adams, and I don't mind who knows it."

"Juliet." He coughed again, trying to gather his thoughts. "Are you coming home with me?"

She smiled and pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Yes. Home."


End file.
